Better Tomorrows
by Grav
Summary: "Perhaps," Ori says, when he can no longer bear the silence between them. "Perhaps you might kiss me?"


**AN**: I don't even know. Dwalin and Ori get married for Reasons and it is Tremendously Uncomfortable because they kind of like each other and are both decent dwarves, but they're both Very, Very Aware of incredible imbalance of power between them and they really, really, don't want to hurt each other's feelings? BASICALLY IT IS PWP.

**Rating**: M

**Disclaimer**: Dude, there is a fair chance that at some point in the future I'll deny having _written_ this. I certainly don't own it.

**Characters/Pairing**: Dwalin/Ori, Dwalin, Ori, Dori, Nori

**Summary**: "Perhaps," Ori says, when he can no longer bear the silence between them. "Perhaps you might kiss me?"

* * *

**Better Tomorrows**

Put bluntly, it is an offer that Ori cannot refuse.

No matter how Nori turns first bright red, and then deep purple, before taking himself off to the tavern to get, Ori assumes, as incapacitated as possible; no matter how Dori pleads and begs, and finally _promises_ to find another way; the fact remains: there will never be a better chance than this. Nori will take care of himself, and once Dori is no longer trying to stretch his wages for two, they will both be better off.

And Ori will be married. Part of the Line of Durin, except this time on the right side of the sheets.

Ori spends so much time avoiding his brothers' attempts to change his mind ("Why does it have to be _him_?" and "But you're finished your apprenticeship now and things can only improve."), that before he knows it, he has signed the necessary contracts, said the ancient words, received and given the traditional braids and packed his meagre collection of things. He has no time to be terrified until he's standing in Dwalin's half-appointed kitchen, wondering what it is that he is supposed to do next.

Of Dwalin, son of Fundin, he knows three things: Dwalin is highborn, but does honest work and so far has been respectful of Ori's profession; Dwalin is scrupulously fair, even in his dealings with Nori, and some of Nori's even shadier acquaintances; and when Dwalin came to Dori's cottage to make his proposal, he stammered over the words, and coloured a pretty shade of pink when he told Ori to take a few days to think it over.

Ori has no idea how he came to Dwalin's attention in the first place, and he has the distinct impression that they are never going to talk about it. Except for the increasingly awkward quiet between them, he thinks he might be all right with that. At least for now. His life is complicated enough at the moment.

"Perhaps," Ori says, when he can no longer bear the silence between them. "Perhaps you might kiss me?"

He has a vague idea how this is supposed to go. They are wed, after all. And he has read a great many texts that deal with anatomy. But no book has prepared him for Dwalin's wide shoulders or the way his own hands shake so badly he has to ball his fingers into fists to keep them from quaking. Dwalin has made his intentions clear, but he has also be excruciatingly polite, and Ori gets the sense that if he shows any fear at all, Dwalin will refuse to touch him.

So he holds himself still, and Dwalin's hands come up to frame his face, and then there is the press of lips to his, so softly Ori wonders if he might be dreaming. Surely Dwalin does not have this measure of gentleness. Ori sighs, and shifts forward, his hands coming to rest at Dwalin's waist. The hands in Ori's hair tighten, and the kiss intensifies. It is, all at once, not enough and much too much, and when he feels Dwalin's tongue press against his lips, he loosens his jaw, mouth falling open, without even thinking about it.

Abruptly, he's flying. Dwalin's mouth is impossibly hot, and his deliberate explorations leave Ori breathless. The hands leave his hair, and Ori is pushed back, and then lifted so that he is sitting on the edge of the table, Dwalin between his thighs. Now they are the same height, though Ori still feels pleasantly crowded due to Dwalin's greater bulk. Feeling small is something Ori is accustomed to, though there is a marked difference between his usual fear and this current feeling of...potential.

He feels himself grow hard, and knows that Dwalin must feel it too, because the he growls – so quietly it might actually be a purr, if Dwalin purred – and bites down lightly on Ori's bottom lip, before sucking it into his mouth. With a sudden clarity, Ori knows that he has never wanted anything in his life quite as much as he wants this, even though he has no idea what exactly _this_ is and neither has he any idea how to go about asking for it.

"Dwalin," he says, mostly because it seems appropriate but also because he's not entirely sure he remembers other words. "Dwalin, please."

"Aye," Dwalin breathes, and drops to his knees.

The sudden cold on Ori's face as Dwalin withdraws is a quickly fading shock to that which results when Ori realizes what Dwalin intends next. He deftly unlaces Ori's breeches, and draws out his cock with sure hands. Ori would blush, except he's already flushed and short of breath with want. Dwalin grins, looking up with bright eyes, and then back down to where his hands, wrapped just too tightly, are beginning to pump.

Ori's eyes roll back and he grips the table hard. Dwalin's hands have slid to his thighs, but before he can muster the breath to protest, he feels the wet heat of Dwalin's tongue circling the head of his prick. He makes a choked sound, and thinks he hears Dwalin laughing, but he can't be sure because a moment later, Dwalin swallows him down and Ori can near nothing but the pounding of a thousand hammers against the anvil of his heart.

One of Dwalin's hands comes back to circle the base of Ori's cock, putting pressure where his mouth can't reach. Somehow, Ori spares a thought as to what the other hand is doing, until he hears the sound of Dwalin's heavy belt falling against the stone floor. Dwalin growls – or purrs, this time, definitely a purr – and Ori thrusts helplessly in response.

"Dwalin," he says again, though this time it's mostly air in the shape the word usually takes, and then his blood is on fire and he is falling without moving from the table, and Dwalin takes and takes and takes, before groaning, and coming in his own hand.

Boneless, Ori slides off the table and into Dwalin's arms. Not even the hard floor jarring against his knees can break him out of his reverie. He presses a kiss to Dwalin's lips, leaning upwards and tasting what he realizes is himself with some awe, and then buries his face in Dwalin's shoulder and tries to remember what regular breathing feels like.

"Well," Dwalin says, and Ori is more than a little pleased to note that he seems rather short of breath too.

"Well," Ori says, and somehow they both understand what the other is trying to say.

It's not the best of beginnings, but it is a beginning none the less. If nothing else, it speaks of better tomorrows.

* * *

**finis**

Gravity_Not_Included, February 23, 2013


End file.
